


Smells Like Team Spirit

by MsLanna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Supposed to be funny, refugee camp AU, team fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLanna/pseuds/MsLanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Refugee Camp AU. Tim Boshte tasks ex-military commander <a href="http://41.media.tumblr.com/f6485abb3903abbb2b74edb2f17b7dad/tumblr_nu7bcnqupo1r6mgsco1_500.jpg">Mellanna ‘Turtle’ Shepard </a>with the organisation of a refugee camp. She has 7 days to get her team together and pull this off. (Yes, I am sorry. This is currently my job^.^’ )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday: The Assignement, Tuesday: Management and Medical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tbiris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbiris/gifts).



> for the [@meficswap](http://meficswap.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Tumblr Name: tbiris
> 
> Pick a type of fic below:  
> Randomized AU
> 
> If you want your OC featured in your fic, provide a link to your OC Post(Example): Use your own OC! :D
> 
> Anything you absolutely do not want?(genres, characters, situations, etc.): Nothing comes immediately to mind
> 
> Anything else to tell your swap buddy?: Not that I can think of!
> 
> There you are, luv. More to come, working on stringing all the ideas together somewhat sensibly. ^.^'

“You worry about the civil war, I will worry about my team.” Mellanna 'Turtle' Shepard hang up on Tim Boshte. Her team. Now that was easier said than done. She stared bleakly at the screen of her laptop for a while. Did Tim even know how many people you needed to efficiently run a refugee camp? Even a small one? Like for the eight hundred people they were expecting.

Psh, expecting. Half of them had already arrived. Disaster control was running the camp as yet. But they would pull out on Monday, taking everything with them. Well, except for the refugees. Monday. Shepard glanced at the calendar. She had a whole week. Yay.

First of all she would need a camp manager. No wait, that was her. Great. One position filled. Thirty nine to go. She rubbed her temples. With a sigh she opened the list of skype contacts Tim had given her. At least he was providing some candidates. Shepard browsed the names and realised that she would have to hire most of them, if she couldn't get personnel from somewhere else. Calling the first number, she settled in for a long, long day.

 

_ Tuesday, Management and Medical _

“I don't see why Dr Solus should be leading the medical team.” Dr Karin Chakwas lent back on her chair a clear challenge in her eyes. “His professional past is chequered at best.”

“More experience working in stressful environments than anybody,” Solus replied. “Choice obvious. Chequered past also not relevant. Governmental research program was all legal. Never did release any of the bioweapons.”

“You were researching highly contagious and deadly diseases in uncontrolled areas,” Chakwas said. “Your results were extremely clean for such circumstances.”

“Insinuation not appreciated,” Solus crossed his arms before him in a defensive gesture. “Meticulous choice of test subjects. Long preparation period. Able to preclude chance almost completely due to multiple test runs in advance and tight hypothesis.”

It was clear that Chakwas was not buying that. Shepard prepared to intervene but Anderson beat her to it. “Seeing the twofold nature of the tasks, a dual leadership might be needed. The organisational and practical departments will likely produce too much work for one person to handle.”

“The management should be deciding on that,” Miranda added. “They will have to work closely with the heads of each department.”

“Thank you.” Shepard wished Miranda wouldn't talk as if she was already part of aforementioned management. Sure, she would need a deputy and there was the coordinator for the volunteers, but the list of hopefuls was about as long as the list Tim had given her. Oh joy. “Both decisions will be made after this meeting.”

Miranda glanced at Anderson and Edi. It was clear she considered them contestants. A little more team spirit would not be amiss.

“The idea to find a team that works well with each other by inviting two groups is understandable, Shepard,” Edi said. “Under the circumstance, it may also cause more unrest than deciding on each position separately.”

“I have until Monday to get this up and running,” Shepard said. “I don't have the time for single interviews.”

“Understood.” At least, Edi knew when to shut up. Miranda on the other hand...

“Maybe it would help if we all expressed our expectations more clearly. A consensus-” the door opened.

“Shepard, Mellanna?”

Gesturing the group to just go ahead, Shepard got up and out. The newcomer looked as if he had accidentally dressed in cables instead of clothes that morning. Strange glasses gave the imprssion of only one eye. He blinked.

“That's me,” Shepard said, closing the door behind them. “How can I help?”

“I am Jess Le'Jean, from Electronic and Telecommunications Networks.” His brow was rising and falling. “It is about the refugee home in Citadel Street.”

“I am listening.”

“The power cables are not ready to take the amount of electricity you need. I have charted a secondary system that will back-up the primary.” He held up a print of complicated lines that made no sense to Shepard.

“Is there a problem?” she squinted at the paper, but it was not improving its intelligibility any.

“In general no.” He pointed at a point where several lines crossed, or merged, or did both. “But if the maintenance is not careful about the calibration of the system the resistance could go from 1.33382 down to 1.33381 which means that if no adjustments are made the whole system will blow up under our feet within-”

“Welcome aboard.” Shepard didn't let him finish. “You can start immediately. I will send you an expert on calibrations as soon as I can.”

Leaving the surprised Le'Jean behind, Shepard returned to her meeting. Not unexpectedly it was doing its best to deteriorate into name-calling.

“Your protégée was conducting illegal experiments on students.”

“Whereas drinking on the job and associating with a terrorist organisation are perfectly fine.”

“I was only on the premise, not on duty.”

“I exposed Maelon's activities.”

“Which speaks volumes about your loyalty.”

“My loyalty belongs to the oath I swore and the good of all people.”

“Dr Solus also did heal any harm done by the experi-”

“Everybody shut up.” Shepard put her hands on her hips. “The situation is bad enough as it is with the facility possibly blowing up under our feet.”

She waited until the silence had settled. “Wiks, you're head of medical, everybody else shut up and fall in line. Anderson you are my deputy, feel free to bang heads together in case of need.”

“Acknowledged.” Anderson sent a convincing glare at the team of doctors.

“Good.” Shepard went on after a sigh. “So, security and facility management will be tomorrow, social supervision on Thursday, those people tend to talk a lot. General organisation on Friday and the introduction to the facility and preliminary processes on Saturday. Dismissed.”

“Shepard?” Miranda spoke up. “You are not in the military any longer.”

“Yeah, sorry.” She ran a hand over her eyes. And a fucking pity that was. “Anyway, get together and see what kind of internal organisation you can come up with, Miranda. You'll head HR.”

“Thank you.”

Shepard nodded. It was not really fair to anybody involved. But it would keep the people off her back and it would keep Miranda from complaining that she didn't have a position up to her talents. “Right. I'll be at my desk phoning the rest of the team. Miranda, please write up drafts for the work contracts. We need to hand those out immediately.”

Because, if any of them realised that actually, they had already started to work and as such had an open-ended work contract while she had only been given a budget for six month. Oh, this would be so much fun.

Not.


	2. Wednesday: Security

“And you are?”

Shepard was berating herself for making Miranda head of HR. That meant she was sitting in on all job interviews. Mellanna had never intended to spend that much time with the woman.

“I am Wrex Urdnot. And these are my wife Bakara and my son Grunt.” The man was huge, built like a well-muscled widescreen, as were his two companions.

“It says here that you have your own security company.” Miranda rifled through a stack of papers.

“We do indeed. Which is why we can start immediately.” Bakara's voice was very pleasant, calming. Shepard could see where that in combination with her built came in handy in her line of work.

“Why would you want to give that up?”

“We do not,” Bakara explained, sending a stern glance at her husband. “But at times like these, we must stand together. “In the long run, security may be outsourced, but you need a solution right now.”

When Miranda made an exasperated face, Shepard just shrugged with a grin. Business models came in all varieties. And this one certainly had a good prospect of working and bringing some expansion to Urdnot Safety Solutions.

“She has a point. And we need professionals.” She looked at the small family. Well, small was not quite the right word for any of them. “Welcome aboard. You can work out the details with Ms Lawson.”

“Shepard?” Miranda was about to object, but Mellanna had already gotten up. She would direct the next talks and leave the paperwork to the head of the department. “Are we really going to do this?”

“I don't see why not,” Shepard replied. “They have the experience and qualifications. Grunt has also just finished an extra qualification as exterminator. Any special pests you prefer to wipe out?”

“Spiders.” There was a pause in which Shepard waited for the rest of the sentence. It never came. Instead Grunt laughed to himself softly. “He he he.”

There was a group of seven waiting in the other conference room. Shepard had no idea how to turn those into a team, much less under the leadership of the Urdnot family. At least the old tattooed guy was already making friends with a completely tattooed young woman. She looked through her papers. Zaeed Massani and Jack Mann. Good. Probably. Those two looked as likely to set the whole facility on fire and have a drink over the flames as protect it.

Thane Krios was a wisp of nothing, but a veteran in his job, so who was she to wonder? Morinth Anear was staring at Ashley Williams like a snake at an especially tasty mouse. Williams was ignoring her, though, so everything might be well on that front. That left Jacob Taylor who looked as if he was on stand-by, waiting for the important part to start.

Shepard took a deep breath. “Welcome. It is very kind of you to attend on such short notice. The basic information of the job offer was in the memo. Any other questions before I start my pep talk?”

“Is there any chance you'll be coughing more credits for the job?” Zaeed spoke up. “I don't know about the others, but my rates tend to be higher. A lot higher.”

Here it came. Shepard wondered whether or not to don an extra happy smile and decided against it. She couldn't sell these jobs to people who didn't want them. The pay was rotten compared to other opportunities, the contracts were fixed-term with shifts and weekend work.

“If it was up to me,” she began, “there was. But we're being funded by the government and they have only given us so much money. They also have only given us money for the coming six months which is what the contracts are fixed term. Of course we expect the refugee home to be up and running for longer. The refugee situation doesn't look as if it is going to abate any time soon.

“We would like to extend our contracts as soon as possible, but right now I cannot promise you anything. You will have to judge for yourself.” Shepard made a short pause. “Judging soon would be appreciated as those of you who accept our offers will start working on Monday.”

“That is at a rather short notice,” Williams said.

“It is indeed,” Shepard agreed. “Which is why I took the liberty of only inviting candidates that are currently available.”

The group exchanged glances.

“I am not going to tell you how important this job is and that we have to stand together to master it. The pay is crap, the job will be hard. Anybody not wishing to do this, you're welcome to leave now. Please decide fast because I'll need to get somebody else. The whole thing sucks, but it is what it is and I'll do what I have to.”

“Nice speech, cheerleader,” Jack said. “I'm in. I've seen some of the kids coming through and,” she broke off. But she didn't have to say anything else for Shepard to get it, the refugees reminded Jack of her own youth as a dislocated roamer.

“Thank you Ms Mann.” Mellanna let her glance wander on. “Mr Massani?”

“This is way below my pay grade.” He crossed his arms. “But seeing what is at stake makes hunting down petty criminals and debtors look unimportant. And,” he broke out a grin, “it is temporary.”

“I'm no fan of strangers overrunning our country,” Williams said, “but as long as we can't stabilise the situation in their home countries, I see no alternative to caring for them here. Count me in.”

Krios and Jacob just nodded their approval. Shepard approved. Speeches were her job.

“It sound like fun,” Morinth said. “If I was working to get rich, I'd certainly have chosen another line of work.” She winked seductively at Jack who ignored her.

“Mr Leng?”

“I'm with the fun lady on this one,” he replied looking at Morinth whose turn it now was to ignore the glance sent her way.

This might work out or go horribly wrong. Time would tell. Shepard made a mental not to ask Tim for more candidates in case the current ones jumped ship. “Excellent. Report to Ms Lawson for your contracts. Introduction to the facility is Saturday at half past eight. Dis-,” she stopped herself taking a deep breath, “discussions about pay grades and shifts to be conducted with Ms Lawson.”

That had been close. “Thank you for doing this. I should go.” She fled the room, bumping headfirst into a red-haired woman. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it's okay,” came the reply. “I am looking for Mellanna Shepard?”

“That would be me. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering how you planned to handle the volunteers.” She started to follow Shepard. “A lot of the necessary interpreting and activities in refugee camps are conducted by volunteers.”

That was true enough. But so far Shepard had had her head full with trying to set up a core team to actually get the camp somewhat up and running. Okay, limping. Anyway, volunteers had not been a priority.

“Who are you anyway?”

“Oh, sorry. I am Kelly Chambers. I just graduated from university with a degree in psychology and administration.”

“Really?” Shepard came to a stop. “That's an odd combination”

“I want to run my own praxis one day,” Chambers replied. “So I better know what I am doing.”

“Right. And you want to coordinate our volunteers?”

“Well...”

“Great, you're hired. Proceed to the office of Ms Lawson, second to the right for the work contract. Introduction is Saturday at half past eight. Work starts on Monday.”

Before Ms Chamber could react, Shepard took off again. She needed to make a list of positions and who held them. It was only day two and she was already loosing the overview. This was not how this had been planned. She had just finished when skype blared at her, announcing a call from Tim Boshte.

“Bad news, he said almost without greeting. “There will be another 200 refugees coming in on Sunday.”

Just great. Her core team would have been able to handle the current five hundred. This would be so much fun.

Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mann - Breton word for zero  
> Anear- derived from Samara's voice actor's last name and slapped on to her daughter as well.


	3. Thursday: Social

“What happened here?” Shepard crossed her arms before her, leaning back on one heel.

Padok Wiks and Mordin Solus were sitting in the foyer, the first having a splinted and bandaged hand, the other sporting a very nasty black eye. As far as Shepard could tell, they were poring over shift plans for the medical unit.

“We had a disagreement over the qualifications necessary for the proper upkeep of medical care in the refugee home,” Wiks said without looking up.

“Minor fracas,” Solus added. “Seemed best idea after several drinks. Called it a tie. Paramedics and helpers now deployed evenly.”

“You got into a fist fight over this?” Shepard didn't believe it.

“Nothing serious,” Solus said, finally looking up. His short reddish hair contrasted amazingly with the almost black of the bruise. “Conflict solved. All is well.” His grin did nothing to make his point more credible.

Shepard shifted her attention to Wiks.

He just shrugged in agreement. “Professional disagreements are perfectly normal. The method of solving it may have to be reconsidered for the next time.”

Men! Doctors! Shepard was ready to throttle them all. It would make for good stress relief. Too bad she didn't have time for that. Today she had to hire the social workers and pedagogues. Looking at her list, she felt disheartened already. It was a motley mix.

And on this day of all, Miranda had some family business to attend to. As if her sister couldn't relocate on her own. Moving wasn't that much of a thing and they had even hired a company. What was left to do? But it meant she wouldn't have to deal with her during the interview. And maybe she could split organisation and tech tomorrow so Miranda took one group and she the other. Shepard liked that idea a lot.

The group of social workers and pedagogues seemed to have split along the age line when Shepard entered the room. James Vega, Kaidan Alenko and Kasumi Goto almost huddled together as they talked in low voices. At the other end of the table, Samara Anear, Javik Prothy and Donnel Udina were displaying a more open if also more aggressive body language. Edi Viai was sitting in the middle, joining now here, now there for a few words.

To their credit, all of them looked up and shut up more or less quickly when they realise Shepard was there. Time to replay her spiel about the refugee home again. Shepard donned a smiled and launched into her pep talk.

“While I understand the difficult position you are in,” Edi replied, “you have to realise we are all at different points of our lives right now. This framework may be unacceptable for many reasons.”

“Oh, I understand alright,” Shepard sighed. “I just wanted to put my cards on the table right at the beginning so you can decide what is best for you. I understand that you have a daughter Ms Anear, so if child care is a subject you need to talk about...”

“Thank you for considering this,” Samara said. “But as far as I know, my daughter has already been hired by you yesterday.”

Shepard wasn't sure if she heard a note of disapproval in the other woman's voice. “I suspected you might be related. But it is none of my business unless you have trouble working together.”

“It will not be a problem.”

And even if, Shepard got the nasty feeling that everybody on the social team would be willing to offer help talking things out whereas everybody on the security team would offer help beating social up. “Good. Other questions?”

“Will there be unaccompanied minors?” Alenko wanted to know.

“There may. Though there should not, taking the law into consideration. Unaccompanied minors are to be reported immediately so the youth welfare service can take custodianship. Please keep your eyes open as some of them will try to pass for adults.”

“I head the youth welfare services were overstrained,” Vega said.

“They are, but it is their job to find a solution for that. We are too few to properly care for minors. They are vulnerable and need to be taken to safer places as soon as possible. For emergencies, there will be a special area kept clear close to the family tract of the facility. You will see that on Saturday. In case you decide to stay.”

“To truly decide, I would like to know more about the actual work we will be doing,” Prothy spoke up. “The refugees are unlikely to speak our language any any kind of intervention will be difficult.”

“Right.” Shepard took a deep breath. “The refugee home will be organised in several departments, each focussing on a certain aspect. Still, if work has to be done, any department will have to step up. Just so we are clear on that.”

After looking around, she continued. “The security looks after the boundaries and will break up physical fights and threats. Organisation will look after the smooth running of the daily activities. They also manage storage. Medical administers first aid and makes sure serious illnesses are spotted and the patients get treatment or get to hospital if necessary.

“All this ignores the human aspects. Those people have come a long way. They have experienced horrible things, many will be traumatised. Here they are fed and housed but have little to do. Your job will be to make sure everybody stays as calm as possible and security has as few fights to break up as possible. Also, try to keep up their spirits.” Shepard blinked. “That of the refugees, I mean, not security.”

There was a moment of silence.

“It will be a challenge to interact with people who do not share our language,” Samara said. “Are we going to follow a specific teaching?”

“The one you bring,” Shepard replied. How many different schools of dealing socially with things could there be? “You'll find out what works best.”

“If we work together we should be able to quench most conflicts early,” Kasumi agreed. “And for the rest there will be security if necessary.”

“The solution is easy,” Javik said. “We expel them all from the grounds.”

“We cannot do that, Prothy,” Shepard reminded him. How had a guy like him even become a social worker? “We have the governmental duty to take care of those people.”

“Just for a night then.” Javik held on to his convictions.

“No,” Shepard insisted. “No refugee is getting thrown off the grounds. Are we clear.”

Javik did not look convinced or happy, but agreed with a shrug.

“Good. Once Ms Lawson is back, you can talk to her about the specifics of you contracts.” Before anybody could ask any further questions, Shepard waltzed out of the room. Wiks and Solus had gone. She hoped it wasn't for more drinks and another brawl. She needed both up and running. She had almost reached he office, when Anderson caught up with her.

“There is already trouble in the camp,” he said. “The new tract is infested with vermin.”

“Which kind?” Shepard sighed.

“The eight-legged kind, also bugs and heaven only knows where the ticks come from.”

“I'll put Grunt Urdnot on it. He's about on our payroll already. Is there enough space to house the new arrivals in the meantime?”

“Barely. We will need all hands we can get, Shepard.”

And they needed them right now. She got it. “Alright, Miranda can take over for me here and-”

“That is not what I meant,” Anderson interrupted her. “You need to go and get the rest of the team together. I will deal with the situation in the refugee home.”

“We are in this together,” she objected. “If you go, I go.”

“The team is more important right now. If you cannot get them together, we have no chance of ever getting structure into this mess. I am counting on you.”

Shepard was about to point out that she was actually the boss around, when Miranda arrived. She looked distressed and Anderson took the chance to take off.

“Shepard, can I have a minute?” Miranda asked.

“Sure, what is it.” Maybe this would distract her from Anderson holding up order in the camp while she pushed around papers and tried too recruit people. “Did something happen during the move?”

“Not really,” Miranda said. “Our father showed up. He is a dangerous man, Shepard. His morals are dubious and I think he wants to use either me or my sister Oriana to gain access to the refugee home.”

“Why would he try that?”

“He is a scientist, a ruthless one.” Miranda crossed her arms before herself protectively. “We do not know how far he will go, his research branch is trauma and stress. The refugees would seem like perfect test subjects to him.”

Not under my watch,” Shepard almost hissed. “Thank you for telling me. I'll tell everybody to keep their eyes open for suspicious activities.”

“Thank you, Shepard. I will take the social team from here.”

“Do that.” Shepard fled into her office and closed the door before anybody else could get the idea of approaching her. Arachnids and academics. This was going so well.

Not.


	4. Friday: Organisation and Tech

At least there were no beat up members of her future team greeting Shepard when she arrived at work. Instead a lanky man stood at the coffee machine, rows of different cups lined up beside it, fiddling with the controls.

“And you are?”

He turned around and proved to be no less thin from the front. “I, uh.” He glanced at the incriminating number of full coffee cups. “I'm Garrus Vakarian. I'm here for the job interview. The nice lady told me I could get a cup of coffee here, but...” he looked around furtively. “The machine's not calibrated quite correctly.”

“And as I can see, you took it upon yourself to correct that.” Shepard wasn't sure if she should laugh or be annoyed. Both seemed to work. The young man didn't look as if he would take well to being laughed about, though. “I hope you brought a lot of friends to drink all that.”

“I did not.” He had the decency to look embarrassed, running a hand through his ashy hair.

“That's what I though.” Shepard picked a cup.

“Am I late for the interview?” A woman asked from behind.

“Not yet.” Shepard took another cup and offered it to the newcomer who took it automatically.

“Do you have a straw to go with that?” She asked after considering the coffee for a moment.

Shepard blinked. It relieved her eyes a little as the young woman had a thing for swirly patterns on purple cloth. Covering her whole person in the fabric did not help, even her hijab matched. “For coffee?” then she remembered herself. “I'm Mellanna Shepard.”

“Talizora al-Raya.” She held out her free hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

After shaking hands, Shepard introduced Garrus who seemed even less comfortable with two women around. He might need a really big coffee machine to calibrate to get over that. She did her best by describing the kind of technology the refugee home had to the two while ushering them into her office.

“The equipment does sound rather outdated,” Garrus said sitting down.

“It is,” Shepard agreed. “But it is all we have to work with right now. And I need people who can make it work. Tinkering expected.”

“Is there software to handle arrivals and departures?” Tali asked. “Can I write some?”

“I don't know. But if not, sure.” Shepard said.

Talizora's eyes were definitely glowing and the lack of a straw did not hinder her ingestion of the coffee any longer. Garrus was also looking slightly dazed. Shepard wasn't sure if it was due to the prospect of unlimited tinkering or a programming Talizora. Not that she cared much. After doing her scare routine, Shepard ushered them towards Miranda's office and told them to go talk to Le'Jean afterwards. Somebody had to have an eye on that trio. They might just forget which time and planet they were currently at.

The rows of coffee cups were still standing beside the coffee machine. Shepard wondered whether to just dump it all. It seemed like an awful waste of coffee. There sure was something that could be done with some crushed ice and cream. There was and in time when the candidates for the organisation team had assembled. They looked somewhat surprised to be served frappé but nobody complained. Or demanded a straw.

“So before we get into any of the details,” Shepard began, “there will be three shifts, you will have to work all of them, including nigh-shifts and sometimes on the weekend. Anybody who isn't up for that or lending a hand wherever necessary may leave now.”

They looked at each other.

“I think we all expected that, Shepard,” Steve Cortez finally said. “This is about supervision after all.”

“And what if a bus arrives in the middle of the night, " Samantha Traynor said. “Somebody has to be there to organise that.”

Okay, they had all done their homework and though about what organising the life in a refugee home included. “I have talked to many applicants who were looking for a traditional nine-to-five job. Just making sure.”

“Does the department have a deputy already?” Liara T'Soni wanted to know.

“Not yet,” Shepard said. She had hoped to avoid the subject for a little longer to assess the applicants some more. Though it came down to a decision between T'Soni and Shawn Broker. Allers would manage the publicity angle. There were just too many people asking for interviews and filming permits right now. Not to mention politicians wanted to visit and be seen tackling the refugee situation. "There will not be much setting the deputy apart anyway.”

“They will bear the responsibility for the rest of the team,” Broker said. In his own way he looked as bulky as Wrex Urdnot.

“I'll just see how you guys work together and then decide.” Shepard postponed the decision. Neither T'Soni nor Broker looked happy about it. “The whole camp will be unorganised when we move in on Monday. Disaster control will pull out and take along everything they brought, tables, chairs, computers, the coffee machine.”

Shepard had to think of Vakarian for a second. The missing coffee machine would be hard on him. “I have ordered the basics already but there is no guarantee everything will have arrived by Monday. Prepare for the worst.”

“I thought there were people living there already?” Jeff Moreau said.

“They are,” Shepard confirmed. “And they will be among the few things left when disaster control is gone.” She pinched her nose. This was not going well. Calling people things. It must have been calling people all day that did that to her. In the end there was only a couple of applicants attending the briefing, but for each person sitting her, she had called at lest three. Her ears were still glowing.

“It is a challenge and an opportunity. You are the ones who decide how to organise and run the refugee home. You can start from scratch. Well,” Shepard shrugged, “you will have to. You can create the system and processes that you feel comfortable with.”

And which worked. She hoped she didn't have to point that out. If these guys were able to form a functioning team, they’d work out the pecking order on the way. Because they had to and because she actually had to find a way to deal with the three hundred applicants still waiting for a reply. Maybe she should have stopped Miranda from taking out an ad. Oh well. On Monday she'd be out of this, wouldn't she and -

Well actually not. She would be in over her head running the refugee home after Monday. “Shit.” Shepard ignored the surprise on everybody's faces. “I should go.”

Peeking back into the room, she smiled brightly. “Ms Lawson will be with you soon to discuss the details of your contracts. You can start arguing about how you want to sort out the first week's shifts already if you want to.”

Closing the door behind her, Shepard took a deep breath. Somebody had to handle all those applications and that somebody could impossibly be her. Time to make more calls. She ran into Vakarain an al-Raya as they came out of Miranda's office. Both looked content, though Miranda looked annoyed.

“What is the sense in me being head of HR when you are conducting all interviews, Shepard?” She wanted to know.

“Division of labour,” Shepard replied. “Also, I did not conduct all of the interview with the organisation team.” She would have made a dash for her office, but that would ave looked very bad in front of the two new employees who had stopped by the coffee machine.

“I suspect you have left the unpleasant subjects like payment and holidays to me again.”

“We pay good money. It can't be that unpleasant. Anyway,” Shepard took a step away. “I really have work to do now.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but let up. Good. Now.

“Please do not calibrate the coffee machine again,” she called out to Vakarian.

The young man turned guiltily and handed a cup to his companion. Somewhere al-Raya had gotten a straw and had held on to it. Now she shoved it through the milk froth triumphantly. At least those two got along. Considering all the coffee she had already had, Shepard passed up the chance to get another and bunkered down in her office.

Fifty new applications glared at her from her mailbox. Great. Shepard wished she had taken the coffee anyway. It would have helped her breeze through all those rejections and probably had hyped her so much she hadn't really cared either. Because she really loved writing rejections.

Not.


	5. Saturday: Introduction

Unlike other people, Saturday didn't mean Shepard had finally two days to relax. Quite the opposite. In about an hour she had to tour a group of thrown-together colleagues through a crowded hall full of refugees. And make them come out of that with the feeling this would be the best job they had ever landed.

 

She would be lucky if half of them decided to stay. At least she had another 400 applicants ready to step up. She had actually invited Nyreen Kandros and Kal Reegar for interviews on Monday afternoon to bolster up the numbers of social and security.

When she arrived at the camp, she was greeted by the sight of an ambulance. A paramedic was lounging at its opened back-door looking bored.

“Anything happened?” Shepard asked.

“Maybe.” He measured her. “Depending on who you are.”

“I am Mellanna Shepard, director of the camp from Monday on.” She crossed her arms before her.

“Right then.” He dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his foot. “It's one of your people we're here for after all. Went missing yesterday.”

Now that didn't sound good. Who would be so stupid as to come here on their own? “Where? Why? How? Who?”

“Name's Grunt Urdnot,” the paramedic replied. “Exterminator as far as I know. Went into the tract that was to open to clear the spiders out and hasn't been seen since. Refugees reported screaming and the staff confirmed.”

“Who is looking for him?”

“As far as I know, nobody. The new tract is low on electricity.”

Fuck that fucking fuck. “I'm going in.”

Shepard stormed past the paramedic, pulling out her ID already. It was unclear how much of it the current security service saw when she stormed past. The hall was not looking any better with the beds pushed a little closer together so the new arrivals would have space. A problem Grunt should have solved.

The new tract had once been a separate storage area inside the production hall. It was partitioned off by little else than corrugated metal and some putty. To her surprise Le'Jean was arguing vehemently with two employees of disaster control.

“It is perfectly safe,” he insisted. “Just let me reconnect the wires and there will be enough current diverted from the main circuit to get light up in the shack.”

“Do it,” Shepard said before even turning toward the two others. “I am Mellanna Shepard and he's with me. I need the light up and running in there to find my exterminator.”

“The noises have stopped about an hour ago,” the man still blocking Le'Jean's access to the switchboard said.

“All the more reason for haste.” A motion with her head made him step away.

“What are you doing?”

Le'Jean had started attaching wires to his jacket. He turned around, beaming. “This is my emergency switchboard, Shepard. Intelligent clothing, it's amazing what you can do-”

“You are plugging yourself into our electricity?” Shepard narrowed her eyes scrutinising the jacket. It did explain why he looked as if he had had a run-in with a cable drum. “Is that even safe?”

“Of course.” He looked insulted. “I am not trying to kill myself. But you can see-”

“I might, but I don't think I'd get it. Continue. I'll get Grunt Urdnot out.” Shepard walked around to the head of the shack, peering into the open door. There wasn't much to see but darkness. It smelled of old fires and fresh chemicals.

When the lights came up, she stepped into the room warily. The dim glow did not much to improve the visibility. Suddenly there was a flash of white, the sound of shattering glass followed by loud voices berating Le'Jean.

Shepard blinked. At least, she could see now. “No reason to worry, I'm fine,” she called. The reason Grunt had disappeared was also very clear suddenly. In front of her there was a gaping hole in the floor.

Great, just what they needed, instabilities in the basic structure. Nobody was going to be housed in here for a while. That meant it would get quite cosy outside and that meant all the more potential trouble. If only that wasn't her job.

“Grunt Urdnot?” She called into the hole. There was no reply.

Shepard gauged the distance to the bottom of the hole. It would be possible to get in without rope but up again, with a possibly incapacitated Grunt Urdnot? Highly unlikely even for a former marine. So rope it was, torches, first aid kit, and lots of optimism.

She was just about to leave, when there was a scarping noise in the hole. Shepard leant down. The noise repeated, reminding her of somebody dragging heavy boots over concrete. Which was exactly what it was. A few scraping shuffles later Grunt appeared in the hole, looking inappropriately happy. He was covered in a mix of ash, detergent, and dead spiders.

“He, he he.” he looked up at her. “Problem solved.”

Shepard took a deep breath and did not shout. “We will get you out of there, stay put.”

“Do you have something to eat?” Grunt didn't look the least perturbed.

“Later.” She did her best don't-argue-with-your-mother impression. It seemed to work as Grunt flopped down onto the ground, examining the sorry state of his gear.

Outside the shack, Shepard found Le'Jean and told him to get two people and some rope to free the exterminator. “Also noodles, should you have some.”

And all this before the introduction had even started. She stalked towards the entrance again, finding the whole crew assembled already.

“Is there anything amiss?” Miranda asked immediately.

“Nothing to worry about.” Shepard scanned the group. “Urdnots, you son is still in one piece. The ground in the shack caved in but he seems unharmed. Plus he did exterminate the spiders,” she added.

“Now, back to the reason we're all here. This is you future workplace.” Shepard made an encompassing gesture. “On Monday disaster control will move out. You may ask them questions after the tour, but please leave them alone should they ask you to. We're not here to pester them. You have already gone through security. This procedure will change only slightly when our own team takes over. Wrex Urdnot will tell you about the details of that.”

Since Wrex had already sent her a memo with the most important bits, Shepard used the pause to look around for Grunt. The young man was stumbling towards them. Everybody was giving him a wide berth which was understandable. His state had not improved any, but now he was also slurping something that looked like instant ramen. He got a once-over and reprimanding look from his mother but that was that.

“ Okay, now follow me,” Shepard took over from Wrex. “The beds have been pushed closer together in the main area. This is against regulations and we need to solve that and quick. The planned extra space is off limits. So is quartering anybody off the grounds.” She glanced at Prothy. 

“There is some more space in the building you have seen to the right of the hall. It had been reserved for families, quarantine, and unaccompanied minors so far. Organisation, get your grey cells working on how to rearrange things.” She led them through the hall, circling the shack which had been declared off limits with red tape.

“The new caterer will arrive tomorrow and break through the wall here. The kitchens will be built outside so we don't lose any more space in here. Get thinking about how to best feed about a thousand people. You can see the space we have for tables and chairs, it will not become any more, I'm afraid.”

The murmuring started then. The working conditions were indeed less than optimal, she had told them that. But only now did the severity of the situation sink in. But there was nothing to it. “Social, please keep in mind that the caterer is very European and the food might not strike a chord with the refugees.”

More murmuring though that sounded more contemplating. Winding their way through the hall, they finally arrived at the side where a door led to the building that had once housed the offices for the factory.

“Before we go in here,” Shepard said, “I want to remind you that everything, everything in here belongs to disaster control. They will take it with them when they leave on Monday. So feel free to redecorate and rearrange in your heads already.”

“Shepard, boss?” Garrus Vakarian spoke up.

“Yes?”

“I think we have lost Ms Al-Raya.”

Great. Shepard looked around hoping the young woman would still be wearing that mightily colourful outfit of hers. But no such luck. Pulling out her mobile, Shepard contacted security asking them to look for her. She should have asked anybody who got lost to report to the entrance. Too late now. But Al-Raya had some brains. The idea to report to somebody would come to her eventually.

“Alright, listen up. Anybody gets separated, report to the nearest security. We'll get you.” Now, where had she been. Ah, yes. “Wiks, can I leave the medical station to you while I show organisation the office opposite?”

“Of course, Shepard.” Wiks nodded curtly and herded his medical staff into the rooms to their left. Shepard hoped he would not resolve any more conflicts as physically as he had with Solus.

The offices looked nice enough. Still, the desks and coffee machine would be gone as would the lockers, shelves and computers. T'Soni and Broker were looking closely at everything, probably planning to awe her into making them head of the department with their ideas.

“Where is storage?” T'Soni asked.

"Near the entrance to the right,” Shepard replied. “I'll show you when we had a look at the other two storeys here for families, women and unaccompanied minors.”

“Because if we can move it into the broken area, provided the floor holds up, we could use that space for more refugees.” T'Soni offered. “I thought it was in here, but in the hall it might be even more helpful.”

“Noted.” Shepard turned to the next disaster control employee. “You, find me the boss of your organisation team and get them to talk with T'Soni. I want results before we leave. That gives you an hour.”

The employee dashed off.

“Everybody else follow me.” She led the group through the remaining two storeys. There wasn't that much to see. The families could close, if not lock, their doors and many did. Some of the rooms were still free and allowed a glance at the furniture inside. It wasn't much.

On the way down she had to restrain Alenko from starting to work there and then when he spotted an especially lost-looking child. Le'Jean was awaiting her at the doors with Al-Raya in tow. At least he had unplugged himself from the hall's electronics. Vakarian managed to look annoyed and relieved at the same time.

“My idea should work,” T'Soni said before anybody else could get a word out. “Provided we can make use of the shack for storage. I suggest an assessment as soon as possible.”

“I'm on it,” Shepard said making a mental note to find somebody who would do that on Sunday.

“Shepard. Mellanna. I have found this future colleague,” Le'Jean told her. “She is a great asset. I would like-”

“No. Nobody starts any work in here until Monday without my express orders. Is that clear?” The announcement was acknowledged with general nodding. “Good. Le'Jean, have you finished your adjustments? Great. Time to go home. Al-Raya, please stay with the group.”

More nodding as she began to usher them back into the main hall. Wiks managed to get his people out at the same time. 

“Everything in order. Only minor adjustments will be necessary,” he informed her. “The team is motivated. Very good.”

“Good.” Now she only had to get them through storage and they would be on their way with their contracts and service regulations. Then all she could do was hope they'd be back on Monday morning.


	6. Not Quite Monday

“What is it?” Shepard unearthed herself and her mobile from a pile of blankets.

“Trouble at the refugee home,” Anderson let her know. “Boshte said he couldn't raise you.”

Damned well he couldn't. If there was one person Shepard put on silent now and then it was Boshte. Too bad he had gotten to Anderson now. “What is it?”

“Unknown. But security reported a breach.” There was a short pause. “It looks like the whole Grunt Urdnot fell into was not a fault in the fabric of the building.”

That did not sound good at all. “I'm on my way.”

Shepard arrived half an hour later, finding Miranda already in the camp as well. She was deep in discussion with Anderson which was in itself worrisome. The hole in the floor had been covered with an improvised board made from foldaway beds.

“What's going on?” Shepard interrupted the argument.

“It is my father, Shepard,” Miranda said. “I am certain of this.”

“There is no proof,” Anderson objected. “Though Ms Lawson makes a strong case.”

“Any effects on any of the inhabitants?” Shepard looked at Miranda. “Would he try something contagious?”

“I don't know,” Miranda admitted. “But I would think not for the beginning. He wants to control everything so the sample size and type will be strict at first.”

Well, that was something. Shepard peered into the hole. “Where does it lead?”

“The subway station,” Anderson replied. “With the traffic going through there, we'll be hard put to catch anybody using it except on this end.”

“Agreed. How far down the tunnel did Grunt Urdnot get?” The image of a spider-covered exterminator bursting into the subway station was amusing. It hadn’t happened, of course. That would have been all over the news.

“Uncertain. He left a trail of insecticide but it does taper off after a while.” Anderson shook his head. “The spider problem seems to be coming from the subway station, though.”

“Let's hope it will stay away until we know what to do with the tunnel.” Shepard sighed. The best thing would be to just fill it up again. But they might be able to catch Miranda's father red handed. That would be worth something.

“I want surveillance up at this end,” she finally decided. “And get an estimate on how long it will take to fill up the tunnel and what it will cost us. Or how much it will cost Henry Lawson, after all he had it dug.”

“My father would rather die than compensate you,” Miranda said.

“That can be arranged.” Shepard smiled grimly. Finally something to kill. There wasn't much of that to vent frustration in civilian life.

“I will notify Le'Jean.” Anderson took off.

“I'll find out if anybody saw my father,” Miranda said, leaving as well.

After a heavily tempting ten seconds, Shepard gave in, lifted the cover, and climbed into the tunnel. It was ragged, barely shored up at this end which had probably led to runt's incident. Further inside, the walls had been properly secured. It did look like a long term project. But who had known that long in advance that the building would be turned into a refugee home?

Mulling that over, she followed the tunnel. There wasn't much to see. As Anderson had said, the insecticides stopped somewhere along the way. Not the air became much more fragrant for it. At the end a heavy door blocked the way. Shepard scrutinised it without touching it. If it had been used recently, it showed no signs of that.

There was really no way of knowing. And there was also no guarantee the perpetrator would return now, that the tunnel had been discovered. Well, it would take some time to fill it in again. So they might as well keep an eye on that.

Making her round before leaving she found nothing more amiss than her whole tech team rolled up in an arguing ball before the tunnel entrance. Cups of coffee were balanced precariously on nearby objects.

The underground station didn't reveal anything useful either. From her calculations the door was in an area relatively undisturbed by surveillance. Which left her a whole day to worry uselessly.

Or not. When she arrived back home, several messages were waiting for her that had been transferred from her work phone. One was Grunt letting her know he would not be back on his feet for work on Monday. At least not if he had to leave the doctors and nurses in the hospital in one piece.

The next was from Udina who was quitting before he started to work for the Christian Brotherhood Refugee Services, a group Shepard had never heard of before. A short stint on the internet revealed a rather reactionary group for people who claimed to follow a demolitionist, even if he had died quite a while ago.

Surprisingly enough, the last message was from Massani, asking her out for drinks but getting interrupted by Prothy half-way through and talked into going with him instead. Well, those two would get on like a house on fire.

Putting down her mobile, she got herself a drink. Worrying would do her no good. She might as well do something fun. Maybe go to a shooting range and vent some. That might actually ensure there would be survivors on the first day of work.


	7. Monday: How Things Went Down

Monday morning was a drag. Going to the shooting range had been an excellent idea. Meeting Massani and Prothy there had been unexpected. But they also like dot shoot things and well. Better not to think about it. How was she supposed to know that Massani also shared her weakness for good Scotch.

Swallowing two painkillers against the headache, Shepard added a cup of strong coffee and two reluctant slices of toast. There was no real reason to feel so blue. Things had gone dandy, considering.

She glared at the grump staring back at her from the mirror. “One word,” she warned, “one word and I don't even know what I'll do.”

That wasn't a lie. She had no idea what she would do. Fortunately, she didn't have to come up with something on the spot. There was only a double nod in reply.

At least this time the refugee home was not in uproar when she arrived. Nobody batted an eye at the to men exiting her car either. Maybe the coffee machine they carried had something to do with that. So far so good.

Bakara and Wrex arrived just in time to give the machine a test run. Vakarian gave the machine a speculating glance, probably doing calibrations in his mind again.

“Where's everybody from the organisation team?” Shepard wondered out loud.

Before anybody could reply to that, the noise of a rushing crowd reached them, goring louder by the second. When they checked on it, they found a mob of refugees pressing towards the shack, trying to get into it. They had a panicked look about them, not caring who they hurt, including themselves.

“Great, just great.” Shepard grabbed the in-house comm. “Wiks get over here.”

“They are totally out of control,” Talizora said, looking as if she was trying to hide either behind the coffee machine or behind Vakarian.

“I don't know what my father did,” Miranda said. “he must have triggered them somehow. I had no idea his research was going in that direction.”

“Now you know,” Javik said.

That wasn't very helpful and Shepard was less interested in how it had come to pass than in how to stop it. The press of bodies against the corrugated sheets increased by the minute. They couldn't fail to give in and heaven knew what would happen if the refugees got into the tunnel. There was way not enough space for them and no way out.

“Zaeed, hold the line. Javik get gas masks for the crew. Wiks, find Solus and scrounge up some sleeping gas from the stocks.”

“I don't think,” Chakwas spoke up.

“Oh, he will find a way,” Wiks interrupted her. “If anybody can turn the content of a safe medical point into a weapon, it is Solus.”

“Point conceded.” Chakwas took position beside Shepard. “there will be lot for us to do once they calm down.”

“Let's hop so.” Shepard was still doing a body-count for the worst case scenario. At least there was a limited number of bodies in the camp.

One of them was dragged towards her, hanging limply from Wrex' side. “Look what I found.”

“Henry Lawson?” Shepard ventured a guess. The body was toppled to the ground before her. He seemed overall not irreparably damaged. “You sure you found him in that state?”

“Yep,” Wrex grinned. “Had I come later, Bakara might have turned him into pulp. She is protective of her own.”

She had to have words with the woman later. Now shed have to have some with Lawson first. She poked him carefully with a boot. The man groaned and looked up none too happy.

“How dare you-”

Shepard moved her boot back into his vision. “Don't use that tone with me.” She almost added young man, but Lawson could have been her father as well. “And if you want to keep that boot steady, you better start talking. How do we stop the refugees from going crazy.”

“What good will it do me if I tell you?” he challenged.

“I don't know.” She waved her boot thoughtfully. “Maybe I won't hurt you as bad as I am about to right now?”

“Does this ever work for you?” Lawson didn’t budge.

“Sometimes. The other times,” Shepard shrugged, “the other wished it had worked.” Smiling down at him she put her foot down over his hand. “Which is it going to be with you?”

“You realise that nothing you can do can stop me, do you?” Despite his position Henry Lawson tried to be smug. “My backers will make sure of that.”

“Be that as it may,” Shepard put some of her weight down on his hand. “You better talk fast or there won't be much to back up but a funeral.”

“Breathe in!” The voice of Mordin Solus suddenly pierced the air. “Hold!”

A cloud of light white-ish mist filled the air. Shepard held her breath as well as she could. That wasn't as god as was needed, but before the dancing lights before her eyes went out, an oxygen mask was pressed down on her face.

“Happy to help,” Solus just said before moving on.

Blinking the dizziness away, Shepard realised Solus had not helped Henry Lawson. She took the chance to tie him up and gag him, just to be sure. Whatever he had to say, she didn't want to hear it. A few of her team had also fallen unconscious, but Wiks and his team were already bringing them back.

The refugees did not look good, piled upon each other around the shack. This was not how Shepard had imagined her first day. But at least it could only get better now, right?

Well, actually not. Anderson had taken the liberty to inform the military about the commotion. In response the military had called on the government which had in turn turned the whole camp into a military area. Which in turn meant nobody but her and the refugees were actually allowed t be here.

“Is your life always this turbulent?” Prothy asked. “It would explain a lot about you.”

“You better believe it.” Shepard poked the unconscious Lawson with a foot. “Try to calm down everybody who had not been turned into a mindless husk.”

“You know that I do not speak their language?” Prothy commented.

“Well, you are,” she hesitated, “imaginative. You'll find a way.”

His glare didn't hold up to scrutiny.

Shepard exhaled. So far so good. Only a few of her team were out with the refugees. But with some luck whatever Lawson had done to them would have worn off. Maybe it would be prudent to lug him away and question him.

Miranda turned up as if on cue, taking care of that. “I apologise for my father,” she said. “My sister Oriana tipped me off that he might, well you have seen what he did. She is currently searching his lab for clues. We will find out what he did and how.”

“And how to undo it, needs be,” Shepard added nodding. 

Well, so much for that. At least the whole thing wasn't her problem any longer. With the quarters declared military area, they had to staff and run it. She ambled to where they had just put up the coffee machine. Vakarian was calibration it diligently and everybody in the area was hanging around for a cup or three.

After her third double espresso, Shepard decided to leave, completely. Enlisting again sounded like a good idea. At least you got people to shoot at. And who knew, maybe some of the team would tag along. Asking them could not hurt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long. Hope you liked it somewhat. WIll try to never do multi-parters fro swaps again. Promise.


End file.
